The Way We Smile
by LoneStorm
Summary: Lucy Heartfilia of York and Natsu of the Faetaye tribe come from different worlds of the 1870s - she, a heiress escaping to the "Land of Opportunity" from arranged marriage, he, a wild Native American boy on the verge of war in desperation to save his homeland. Together, thrown into a clash of culture chaos, they find that they are maybe not so different after all…
1. Prologue

The hoofbeats clattered against the cobblestone, but much to Lucy Heartfilia's relief, none on the dark streets of Penzance opened their windows. Even if they had, however, she wouldn't have stopped - she was leaving tonight, after years of longing, and even her father couldn't stop her now.

The sharp sting of the frigid rain made her gasp and shake the water from her golden hair. She only gripped the reins of her bay stallion ever the tighter, squinting through the night wind, the racing sounds of the other horses huffing with strain behind her.

"Faster, Sagittarius," she muttered, leaning down to his ear. "We must make it to the docks before sunrise."

As if he understood, he let out a huff through his nose and galloped with new fervor. Her companions said nothing as they followed. Goodbyes could wait for when they came to the sea.

It was a near half of an hour later when they finally made it to the shore, where they veered right to a ramshackle boathouse. Jumping off fast enough so that her skirts would not get caught on the saddle, Lucy snatched up her heavily packed saddle bag.

When she turned to the door, she was met with her always-smiling butler, Loke, holding out a bundle to her. "Dress quickly, m'lady; I see the ship upon the docks."

"Thank you," she whispered, taking the cloth from him. "Levy, Virgo?"

"Coming, Lucy," her friend responded, gripping her own pile with white knuckles. Pushing her spectacles further up her nose, Levy tucked some blue hair behind her ear. "No turning back now."

"Yes, princess," Virgo said sincerely. "I shall assist you one last time."

"Not a princess," muttered Lucy under her breath. "Thank you."

"And hurry up, will you?" grumbled Aquarius, folding her arms over her servant dress. "You take a lifetime to get ready and we must return to be in bed when the master awakens."

"Yes, of course," Lucy assured her, hurrying inside with her closest friend, Levy, and maid, Virgo. The shack was dingy, a light smell of salt and must lingering among boxes and boats, but Lucy ignored this as Virgo helped Levy and her strip down, throwing the dresses aside. As she'd done hundreds of times, Lucy turned around so that Virgo could expertly unlace her corset.

She breathed in deeply, feeling her waist unrestrained. With a ferocity she knew not that she had, Lucy snatched up the corset from her maid and tore it in half. "Never again…" she said with a grin.

"We still must find a way to bind you, princess," Virgo warned, holding up stretchy, wide strips of cloth.

"Oh...yes." Lucy grimaced, but let her wind the cloth around her bosom until it was tight to Lucy's chest. It was nearly impossible to downsize her generous bust, but Virgo managed to make it look flat enough.

Levy was going through the same process, though she didn't need nearly as much cloth. Soon, Lucy held out strange clothing that made her feel very awkward...but this had to be done.

"Okay…" she whispered, "so I just put my legs in and… buckle this?"

"Here, princess," offered her maid, helping Lucy into the trousers and the loose shirt, next buckling up leather boots.

"I feel strange," said Lucy, frowning and tugging at her pants. "Very exposed… but it's surprisingly comfortable. Men have such freedoms."

"I quite like it," Levy chirped cheerfully, pushing up the sleeves of her small, white shirt.

Hearing a snipping sound, Lucy turned to see Cancer enter in his red jacket. "It's time, love."

Gulping, Lucy sat on the nearest crate, wincing as she heard the scissors slice off her hastily made braid. The shimmering weave golden hair was carefully set aside, which she stared at while Cancer quickly cut more to make the short haircut more presentable. Due to his expertise, this only took five minutes, after which he brushed the excess from her shirt and moved on to Levy. Virgo handed over a floppy hat, which Lucy jammed on her head.

Levy hid her newly short hair under a similar hat, sliding her bag that was probably mostly books onto her shoulder. "R-ready, Lu?"

"I'm Lawrence for now," Lucy reminded her.

"Right, sorry, Lawrence," giggled her friend. "Levy is unisex, so I'll keep it."

Knowing everything had begun to change, Lucy stepped from the shack and to her waiting friends.

Loke raised his eyebrows at her when he saw her new attire, and Lucy laughed quietly at his expression. "How do I look, good sir?"

"Like a boy," he said, impressed. "A pretty boy, at that."

"And I?" Levy queried.

"Likewise," her butler offered graciously. "A tiny boy. But both of you should work on using deeper voices."

"Oh, good point," Lucy agreed, then cleared her throat. "Well… So… this is it?"

"I suppose so."

Lucy closed her eyes as Loke wrapped her in the tightest embrace. She felt his reddish hair tickle her cheeks. "You write to me, okay? Let me know that you're safe."

She only nodded quickly, trying to keep the tears under control. His hug was followed by Virgo, Taurus, Cancer, Aires, and lastly, Aquarius, the woman that was previously her mother's maid.

"Don't be stupid," Aquarius instructed crossley, glaring as she always had. "Use whatever wits you possess in that silly head of yours. Remember your defense and that knife is in your bag. I hear American men can be crude, so don't be afraid to fight for yourself. You'll have to completely fend for yourself from now on. You're no longer a lady. No one will be spoon feeding you anyone so woman up and prepare to act like a man."

For years, Lucy would get irritated or offended by the maid's cranky attitude, but now she only smiled. "I will. Thank you."

"Are you certain that you would not like us to come along?" Taurus gripped her shoulder. She felt his hand shake.

"Levy and I must do this ourselves," Lucy said firmly, Levy nodding beside her. "You all have families, lives, independence here… we must seek seek out our own ourselves."

"I wish you all the luck in the world," Loke whispered, squeezing her hand momentarily before putting an arm around his wife. "Once Aires and I gather up enough money, we'll join you. Perhaps you'll have a few little ones by then…"

With a laugh, Lucy waved him off. "I am not escaping to a new country to look for a man and to have children - I am doing so to get away from most of them."

"There are males in America." He shot her a teasing grin. "The ladies of the court have mentioned how charmingly honest they are."

"I'll be plenty happy if I grow to be an old maid and write stories for the rest of my days," said Lucy dreamily.

"And I if I get to work in a library," Levy added, and gripped her bag of volumes ever the harder. "It seems they are loading up, _Lawrence_."

"Yes, we must not be late and create a bad impression," Lucy muttered. "And you all must get back by sunrise."

Her faithful friends from her fading life as the daughter of the Duke of York stood all back in a row, smiling, several crying, as she waved and turned away. Turned her back to them, so that their last view of her could be one of strength and not the tears that she was roughly wiping away.

After all, she was supposed to be a man now, and crying among men was not tolerated.

When her and Levy stepped onto the loading plank to the great steamship _The Christina_ and had their names (brothers Levy and Lawrence Thatcher) checked off by a fellow sailor, they dropped their things off in their assigned cots before heading above deck.

Lucy gripped the railing at the bow, breathing in the wafting tang of the salt mixed with the metallic makings of the ship. Beside her, Levy's face looked as eager as she felt, though there was a twist of nerves that remained knotted in her gut. A noble woman dressed as a boy, escaping to a new land, all terrors and adventures coming their way that Lucy was unsure she'd be able to handle… She pushed it aside-she'd thought of this for so long that there was no doubt about it being the correct decision, and all the waiting world they'd see was calling.

It wouldn't be long before the ship set off for the United States. It wouldn't be long before they were enveloped in the beckoning, red horizon. It wouldn't be long before Lucy was completely free.

Oh, how she'd always yearned for something… _new_.

* * *

Natsu's heart rushed like hummingbird wings. His breath low and deep as his horse while he waited alongside his brothers, crouched behind the boulder.

"Be still," Laxus whispered harshly in their native Faetaye language, searing sunlight glinting off the scar over his eye and yellow hair as he addressed Romeo's shifting feet. "Quiet."

"I know, I know..." muttered the younger boy. Laxus dealt him another sharp look for his further speech, and Romeo pressed his lips together as if that would keep him from ever making a sound again.

The rumble was barely noticeable at first, and then it grew to shake the pebbles on the ground. Swallowing with widening eyes in anticipation, Natsu gripped the stone more tightly. The brazen heat of the golden plains reflecting from his bare skin made sweat accumulate to cool him, but he paid it no mind. The waves of warmth from the earth created a sort of ripple across the horizon, blurring the large, brown shapes approaching closer by the second.

"Ready yourself," muttered Laxus, fingering his bow strapped to his back.

Natsu had been born ready. Born for this.

The bison made the very earth tremble. Natsu stared in abject awe-all of them working together to create a movement that shook him to the core. This was true power. Natsu slowly drew an arrow from his quiver, pricking his finger on the tip. Only the sharpest in respect. Hopefully a quick, clean death.

It was perhaps dozens of bulls and cows that rushed towards the cliffs, several other boys from the Faetaye tribe whooping and galloping behind. Much less bison that his father had told him used to roam the plains, but quite a few more than usual, nonetheless.

"Now!" shouted Laxus, jumping up from the rock. Natsu followed suit, leaping up onto the bare, gray back of his horse, Natai, back in one fluid motion and jarring him into a run while drawing a spear rather than an arrow to prod the bison forward. He'd never been faster, rushing from right and left to keep the herd going in one direction.

One by one, the bison fell from the cliff, down to the drop of over one hundred feet. With the other boys at his side, Natsu spurred Natai forward, down the slope at the side of the cliff to reach the bottom. It was bloody indeed, but Natsu had seen it many a time before. From here, he drew his bow, shooting into the hearts of the bison as they fell, wishing them a more merciful death than that of terror. Some boys took out rifles, and though Natsu's own gun resided in its case on his back, he preferred his bow.

When the thunder was over, the boys leapt from the horses' backs, drawing knives. With a sigh and frown, Natsu knelt beside a barely breathing calf. He gently stroked its fur, killing him swiftly and murmuring, "Thank you." Placing his forehead against his prey's, he added softly, "May Great Spirit guide you safely to the heavens."

Natsu stood. Tonight, his tribe would feast.

While the other boys finished with the kill, Natsu faced the fading East. His soul remained restless; they'd been in the same place for camp for nearly a month. He felt they should move.

Something was shifting in the wind that tumbled through his rose-colored hair. Natsu could feel a change coming in his very bones. Perhaps others would feel frightened, but he…

He grinned.

He yearned for something… _new_.

* * *

 **Hallo everyone!**

 **So, a new multichapter story I'm starting. First time working in the historical fiction genre. It won't be nearly as long as** _ **The Keys of Fire**_ **, but I'm excited all the same. Nalu and all my usual side ships! I'm very invested into my own Native American culture and often teach about it at reenactment events in which I wear full Native garb. I felt that this story idea would be a good opportunity both for a unique storyline and a way to teach more about my heritage. Should be fun! In each AN, I will add a historical note.**

 ***I will not update this for two to three weeks because I'll be gone and tutoring - I just wanted to get this out to assure that I'd be writing more, and because I already gave you half of the prologue. Well, I've edited it since, but still.**

 **Historical Note:**

 **While Lucy is set up as a daughter of the late 1870s Duke of York, I'll later explain how she was at an event in Penzance, close to the coast, where she could have made her escape.**

 **The tribe in this story is a combination of many different tribal components. It is mostly based from my own tribe, Lakota, and several tribes from the midwest. You probably know Lakota under the name 'Sioux', but we do not like to be called by this. Sioux was actually a derogatory name from an enemy tribe that means 'snake people'. Lakota is the proper name, meaning 'friend'. You'll recognize this tribe as the one from the Kevin Costner movie,** _**Dances With Wolves,**_ **and the Disney movie,** _ **Spirit**_ **. The hunt of the bison shown here was known as a bison/buffalo jump, where the bison were made to stampede to a cliff where they'd fall and be used by the tribe. The Natives did thank the animals for their sacrifice, recognizing that they needed them to survive, but also holding enormous respect for all creatures.**

 **I hope you enjoyed, and see ya later!**

 **Mizpah,**

 **~LoneStorm**


	2. Red Sun Rising

Lucy still wasn't quite used to being a lower-class man.

Firstly, she was no longer treated with curtsies and delicacy. She was expected to pull her own weight in pulling the ropes while being soaked to the bone in storms, carrying crates, counting supplies. She'd taken a simple ship in the hopes that less people would suspect her presence upon it. The food and bedding, however, was atrocious, and Lucy longed to arrive in America.

She did try to look on the bright side - no longer did men stare hungerly at her body or try to talk her up in a pressured fashion. And no longer did she have to help on deck as much. Since the other men would laugh at her and Levy for how the 'tiny men' couldn't hardly roll a barrel, they'd stationed them down to help with the food: much more simple.

And at night, in their corner of the sleeping cabin…

"Look, they have these portable homes that they call tipis." Levy held up a picture sketched into the worn, leather book. Lucy turned over more in her rocking cot and squinted through the dark at the picture in the lamplight. The structure was shaped like a cloth cone on wooden, tapered poles.

"That's interesting," Lucy admitted. "Why are they portable?"

"So that they can follow the bison herds for resources," her friend muttered, turning the page of the book Levy's mother had written all she knew about the tribe in "You should memorize more of these phrases…"

"I could, but I heard there are all sorts of languages among the Indians," Lucy sighed, shifting to face the cot of the snoring man above her. "This is only one tribe, and you said they're the most elusive, right? I don't understand why we'd even run into them."

"We are heading to San Francisco," Levy reminded her, eyeing the page of the language excitedly. "We'll be passing the plain lands, where they reside."

"From what I hear," Lucy said, though she knew it may push her friend's patience, "they'd kill us on sight. We're white, and they'll scalp us."

"They're a peaceful tribe!" Levy protested. "Not all natives do that!"

"I suppose," sighed Lucy, playing with the end of her shirt. "I don't know… the idea of savages still living there just frightens me, Lev."

Levy was quiet for a moment, but it was enough time for Lucy to realize she should not have said that. "My mother wasn't savage."

Sometimes she forgot that Levy was half Indian. Her skin was more white than red, but her shockingly blue hair resembled that of the Faetaye tribe where her mother had grown up. Apparently, the tribe was known for their strange hair colors.

"Oh Levy," she groaned apologetically, covering her face with her hands. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean it like that… Your mother was a lovely woman." She grimaced. "I really didn't mean… I just… They still wear little clothing and do strange rituals and use spears and paint on their faces. I don't understand…"

"Everyone is afraid of what they don't understand." Levy scanned the page. "Now, what's the word for 'Hello - I bear no weapons'?"

She crinkled up her nose. "Em… Has… Hashate?"

"Correct. The word for food?"

Lucy answered quietly, soon lulled to sleep by the slow back and forth of the ship and the whispers of Levy's voice speaking fluently in a rich, musical language…

* * *

"Excuse me, sir, but how much closer is arrival?" Lucy asked as she approached the first mate. He was a kind and jovial fellow, and she felt safer in discussion with him.

"The storm yesta'day threw us a bit off the coarse," he admitted in a heavy Irish accent. "But didn' ya 'ear the cap'in las' week, lad? 'e said we'd been thar in 'bout a week, and it's been a week - should be another dey or so… or hours. I am not quite as 'sured about navigations as the cap'in."

Lucy felt some kind of fluttering excitement bubble up in her chest. "That is good news, sir."

"Aye. Where'll be you and yer broder headin' off to in the States?"

"We hoped to go to San Francisco, in order to see all of the lands and try out a vibrant city," Lucy explained amicably.

The man let out a short laugh. "Oh, that there is vibrant, be sure, lad, but ye won't find more colorful than New York, where we headin'."

"Perhaps we shall have a good look around," she agreed, not wanting to admit that she simply wanted to get as far from England as possible.

"Such tiny men like you two," continued the first mate, "be dangerous out on the open west. Ya'd need a group ta go with, bigger men ta protect you when ya get off of the train, or make sure ya get The Burlington Route from Chicago ta San Francisco."

"O-oh," was her only response. She hadn't thought of that. Lucy had taken part of her dowry along to sell for passage and lodging before they found work, but they'd have to conserve it more than she had originally calculated. Well, it wasn't as if she'd expected this to be a vacation. "Of course. We'll… we'll take that train route."

"Good," he replied in satisfaction. "None of us sailors air dunders, ya know. Yer talk is very educated we think. I'de sey neither o' you boys 'ave any 'perience in a fight or the like."

"I-I see," Lucy said, a slight flush crawling up her neck. "I suppose…"

"Lawrence!" Levy's familiar voice saved her, bumbling up from behind, small boots clomping along the deck. "Jim says we're nearly there!"

Lucy recalled Jim, the navigator man, and smiled. "Fantastic!"

"Best ready your things, lad," the first mate told her with an easy smile. "Adventure awaits on the 'orizon."

* * *

The port of New York was startling, magnificent in its own way. The ships stood as powerful, towering sentries, though not in a frightening manner. Even from here, Lucy could lean over the rail to see people, hundreds upon hundreds bustling about the docks.

The two girls had their bags up on their shoulders and in their hands, stuffed to the brim with two more changes of men's clothes, books, food, hygiene supplies, and a dress each hidden at the bottom. Lucy's however, held some valuable items to sell upon arrival, along with her collection of journals with ink and quill and her typewriter in its trusty case.

Their boots echoed on the gangplank, following the rush of sailors that lept into the awaiting arms of their lady loves scattered across the docks. Lucy's inner author softened, watching a father envelope his wife in the largest embrace, burying his face into her neck as they rocked back and forth. His two toddlers at their mother's skirts tugged on his trousers until he crouched down to them, accepting them both into a huge, laughing hug.

As soon as they were on land, an overwhelming sea seemed to wash back over her; a sea of nausea, excitement, and a complete loss of where to go.

Levy's hand touched her arm, and Lucy breathed out. She took a step forward.

She knew she wouldn't have been able to do this alone.

* * *

Her heart thrummed with the chug of the train. They had indeed looked around a bit in New York, but the shouting, carriages, and pickpockets running far and wide caused Lucy and Levy to talk swiftly with a tradesmen to get money for one of Lucy's valuables so that they could buy tickets. New York food in the restaurant they stopped at was delightful, flavorful and all a novel experience, but Levy was just as eager to continue the adventure as she. The train system was all very confusing, though after examining a map of the massive country, the girls had soon figured out which line to take.

After passing the lady snoring and young, handsome man reading a newspaper, they'd found a bench for themselves, storing away their bags and watching the people out the window hurrying here and there. New York just seemed so much more busy-everyone had a place to go, a person to see, and nowhere to look but their feet to make sure they didn't trip over anything. No one dared to look at one another, offer a smile, and Lucy wondered why.

By the time the green countryside began rushing past, Levy was asleep on Lucy's shoulder. Lucy smiled wryly at her friend and drew a book from one of the bags. She would usually take this time to write in her journal or to Loke, but the train was far too bumpy to do so.

Of course, she'd ridden a train before. Though her father cared for class, he cared more for fast business, and a train was the way to do it. As well as showing off his daughter to suitors at a most terrifying speed.

Trains were not the cleanest, and were filled with all sorts of strangers that made her uneasy without her usual servant companions. But it seemed that in America, everyone was far too busy to bother one another, for everyone kept well to themselves. Their clothes were all far more simple, accent when they exchanged conversation with companions extraordinarily blunt. Less class, less care for what people thought of them, and more sense.

Lucy found herself liking them without even speaking to them.

The girls took turns sleeping rather uncomfortably on each other, watching over their belongings. All they had in the world rested in those few sacks, and they'd be homeless and hopeless without them, though Lucy didn't like the materialism of it all. But alas, money mattered.

The Indians didn't much have a system of money, according to Levy. Perhaps that would be something refreshing about them… if they happened across a tribe that didn't want to scrape their skin from their skulls.

She didn't quite know how many hours passed-after so long on a ship and a country with different times of the sun, knowing the time was difficult, especially when her mind and body ached with exhaustion. The area about her hips ached even more intensely, sharp and throbbing pains continuously clenching about her lower area.

Lucy knew what it was, but she tried to ignore it and pray that it would go away. Now was a terrible time for her monthly cycle to come about. Her only extra fabric to put a stop to the blood were her few changes of clothes. If her body could make it to the city first and she could buy some more cloth...

When Lucy had just fallen asleep, she was gently shaken awake by Levy, who whispered ecstatically, "Wake up, wake up, Lu-Lawrence! We're in Chicago!"

Chicago was a whole new shock of sounds and colors. The accent was new, too-the New York drawls replaced with a short and straightforward language without pretense. The sun beat down hot over them, causing the fumes to rise with greater fervor, and she was again grateful for the lack of skirts to make her overheated and sticky.

There were indeed the usual smells of a city: sewage, sweat, rust and dust. But the sharp smell of spices and meat accompanied them from the booths of sausage along the crowded streets. Since their train didn't leave for another two hours, her and Levy tightly clutched their bags, shunted through the crowd to a stand, and payed for two of these chili sausages. Messy, but with the assistance of a handkerchief, a delightful experience of raw taste unburdened by the worries of how you'll fit into your corset.

"Let's make it back to the train early," Lucy suggested, biting her lip. She knew she should be buying some fabric to catch the blood if she was right about her cycle coming around, but it almost seemed like that would jinx it to happen even more. "I am unsure of times here, and the sooner we get on The Burlington Route, the better. I-I mean… once we get more money, we can choose more places to visit, but I would like the security of a place to stay."

"Right you are," Levy agreed, brushing the last of the bread from her hands. "I'm so grateful this country has such excessive trains that span the whole place so that we don't have to find a caravan that would take months."

"Wouldn't that be miserable." Lucy winced. "Out in the hot west… sounds like heat stroke and robbery waiting to happen."

"Or we could meet the Indians," Levy said cheerfully, hopping as they made their way back to the station. Then she glanced to her friend quickly. "B-but we couldn't choose which ones, so best not to."

Lucy said nothing; she didn't know what she could say without sounding rude.

The train ride out west was not quite as scenic as the one from New York; the golden grasslands were quite lovely for the first hour, but after that got old very quickly. The green and gold blended together as Lucy set her elbow up against the windowsill and shrugged her cheek into her hand. Her blonde locks intertwined with her finger; her hair had grown like a weed, and she was worried that she'd soon be revealed for what she was. Another reason to get to their destination quickly.

A while into the ride, however, Lucy tried to hide her gasp and she winced. Oh, she knew she should have gotten that cloth. She could only ward off mother nature for so long, and here it came crashing down on her.

Lucy made sure to keep her legs tightly pressed together in hopes that her underclothes could keep the blood from leaking through. Oh, this was just the _worst_ possible time…

And when the train began to screech to a mysterious halt, Lucy realized just how much it could get worse.

There was a muffled shouting when the train stopped, clomps of heavy boots. The other members of their train care murmured to each other nervously, the women huddling close together or two the man they were with. Lucy saw the man behind whisper to his wife, "Keep your head down. If it's bandits, don't look them in the eye or say anything." And the man drew a pistol.

Lucy clapped a hand over her mouth, gripping Levy roughly by the shoulder and prodding her awake. "Levy! Levy, I think we are in danger. Wake up!"

Her friend blinked at her groggily, rubbing her eyes and frowning. "Hmm? Why is the train stopped?"

Her question was immediately answered by the car door slamming open on its slide and three tall men bursting in with guns in their hands and bandanas over their faces. The two girls backed into a corner together, Lucy temporarily forgetting the blood surely seeping through her trousers as she pushed the sack of valuables further underneath the seat with her foot.

"This train is ours!" the man in front shouted, drawling, intense voice muffled through the fabric of his bandana. "Pass o're yer money and ye won't get a bullet in yer head!"

A shaky pistol rose over the seat behind them, and with a _bang!_ that made the occupants of the car scream, the gun was shot straight out of the good man's hand.

The two bandits behind the leader rushed at the man, punching him across the face as his wife cried out. He was knocked out cold, and they began digging through his pockets.

Lucy was frozen, doing as the husband behind them had instructed his wife and not making eye contact with the thieves. In one of her books, the hero would rush at the bad men to stop them. But Lucy was not strong, nor skilled. Her knife was in her bag, too obvious to reach for; there was no point in getting anyone hurt for cheap robbers.

The leader, slowly walking along seats with his gun, soon stopped by them, lazily waving his pistol in her direction. "C'mon then. Cough up, kid."

With a trembling hand, Lucy drew out some coins from her pocket, quickly dropping them into his outstretched hand and pulling hers back as if burned. "That's all we have."

The bandit shrugged and shoved it into his pocket, giving their dirty clothes a once over as if he believed them by their ragged appearance. Lucy gave a small sigh of relief, as he stepped to the next seat-

"Ah, I knowed it! How Funny! Ahaha!"

Lucy clutched Levy to her as if to shield her friend with her arms as she snapped out to the bandit that had backtracked to look at them, "What? What is it?"

"I knowed you was too purtty to be a man. Lookie here, boys! Two gals dressed as men!"

Her heart skipped into her throat, and her grip tightened in horror. "Wh-what a ridiculous accusation!"

"Don' bother denyin' it, missy. I ain't stupid. The blood. You're a woman."

The thief's two friends drew back beside him, eyebrows furrowing under their rimmed, hide hats. "Wha makes ya think he's a she, boss?"

"The blood on 'er seat, and look at that face. And they're little things-want me to prove it?"

"Blood? What does that 'ave ta do with anythin'? Is he… she, cut or somemut?"

Lucy grimaced in humiliation as the 'boss' groaned, "You morons. It's a thing gals have! they bleed from down there e'ry month, me ma always said. It's this nasty, dirty thing they have to do. Some kind of curse I think. But that won't matter for long." The eyes that skimmed over her were disgusting with their objectification, and Lucy was sick at the return of the look to her life. "Runaways, if they're dressed like that. No one's gonna miss 'em. Been a while since we had some women for pleasin', eh, boys?"

Levy's small fingers dug into Lucy's arm, but she didn't react, still in a haze of rising terror when the other two murmured in agreement.

"'Course, we couldn't take 'er right away," sighed the boss, sizing up Levy as well. "Ma said girls that are together have the blood at the same time, so we'd 'ave to wait it out an' then they'd be all ours."

"Y-you won't lay a filthy finger on us," Lucy growled out, unsure of how she'd managed to speak.

She was pretty sure he was smiling wickedly under his bandana. "Won't I, missy?"

Lucy didn't quite know what happened next, but two of the men were suddenly restraining them and ripping them to their feet, the third picking up their belongings eagerly. The other Americans in the train either backed away or stood. Through her frenzied attempts to writhe, kick, and elbow her captor, Lucy saw Levy shouting and attempting to stomp on her assailant's foot, and three of the American men in the car rushed forward in attempt to save them.

One American managed to punch the one holding her in the face, but a gun was drawn, and the American cried out as he was shot in the leg. The other two were held off with the guns as the girls were dragged, screaming and thrashing, out of the train car.

Lucy was pulled roughly down the steps to a possy of horses and other masked men returning with sacks from other train cars. Deep bags were strapped to the saddles of each horse, where their loot was thrown. Ropes were tied hard enough to make blood prick out from her wrists at the stray strands of binding as Levy was thrown onto a horse beside her.

"What's with these, boss?" One of the men stabbed the end of his gun into Lucy's side in indication.

"Don't let the clothes fool ya-these are women." The boss swung up onto his horse in front of Lucy where she was roped to the saddle and laughed to them, "When we get back to hideout, I'll prove it to ya."

Tears of pain and fear blurred in her eyes, but she blinked quickly to hold them back as the robbers whooped and cheered. The group spurred on the horses, and each gallop jarred her cramped lower stomach so that she cried out. In front of her, the boss huffed in annoyance, ripping off his bandana and turning on the horse to tie the filthy thing around her mouth as a gag. Ahead, she saw one of the lackies glance back and follow his leader's actions with his own bandana as a gag for Levy.

Lucy's panic was fully setting in after the initial shock. Her mind sifted through dozens of impossible solutions: they could not try to free themselves from the horse, for they would surely get badly injured and have no doctor to get to. Not to mention, Lucy had no way of letting Levy know of any sort of escape plan. They'd surely try to fight them off or run away at the hideout, but to _where?_ How would they know which way to go, or manage to slip from the grasp of so many enemies. If they stole the horses, shooed away the rest, and rode long enough, they could find help…

Lucy's eyes locked on the knife and gun on the bandit's belt before her. If she could only get to the knife to cut her bonds, hold the pistol to the man's head so that the others wouldn't kill her… Then again, Levy was also a hostage.

But she wouldn't let hopelessness consume her. She came to this country not only to be free, but strong. Through the dust that swirled up from the horses' hooves and the sun's harsh rays, Lucy met her friend's determined gaze on the other horse. It was faithful, trusting that they could get out of this.

 _These bastards are no match for what I've got inside._

* * *

"Natsu!"

From where he was lifting up Asuka to pet his horse, Natsu looked over to where Gray was galloping on his mare towards him. Asuka, an adorable daughter of Alzack and Bisca that was near the age of four, reached out in Natsu's arms, sliding her little hand down Natai's nose with the most delighted expression.

Gray's face, however, was not delighted, though Natsu never expected it to be around him. Out of spite, he matched his friend's usual scowl, answering, "What is it?"

"Alzack noticed a group of elk tracks not too far out of camp." Gray pointed off to the southeast, where a group of other men and boys waited on their horses beside a cluster of three tipis. "We are taking a hunting party out to find them. You coming?"

With a murmur of, "Run along back to your mother, little one," to Asuka when he put her down, Natsu stood back up straight and stroked Natai's mane. "When do we leave?"

"Immediately," Gray told him, his white and brown paint mare nosing Natsu's face in interest. "We do not want the herd to get too far away. Your sister foresaw you rushing off without your supplies and packed them for you when I told her of leaving, so here is your bag."

Natsu had been longing to get out and see the new land they had just set up their new camp in, and this was the perfect chance. After all, it was not as if he was allowed to go to battle without being an official man of the tribe…

With a grin, Natsu swung up onto his horse and snatched up his camp bag from where Gray was holding it. Making sure his weapons were secure, he dug in his heels and racing low on Natai's back to where the other boys were waiting for their next adventure.

* * *

 **Good afternoon, dear people,**

 **Sorry this took so long-I'm not used to all the description that the historical fiction genre usually has, and I still don't think I added enough XD Anywho, jumping right in, and I hope you liked it! Thank you for the kind and encouraging reviews for the Prologue!**

 **Historical Note:**

 **I hope you caught on to how Lucy is on her period-to Europeans/Americans, it was often seen in this time as something dark and unholy that women should be ashamed of. You will see soon, however, what most Native Americans thought of it… I didn't mention the Statue of Liberty, because this story takes place in 1879, when it was not yet built in the New York harbor. The Burlington Route was a real rail line, however, stretching from Chicago to San Fransisco.**

 **See you next chapter… when I have time! I got a little caught up in my collection of TKOF oneshots,** _**Make A Wish**_ **, and** _ **Double Dad Dilemma**_ **, which is a story about roommates Igneel and Gildarts finding baby Natsu and deciding to keep him and raise him themselves… Check 'em out if you want! Also wrote a new Nalu oneshot called "Roll to Me". Pure fluff.**

 **Mizpah,**

 **~LoneStorm**


	3. Blue Horse Running

Agony streaked up Lucy's body at every jostle of the horse as she tried to maneuver her hands out of the ropes. She didn't know if it would do any good, but something was better than nothing. Levy was now out of her sight, especially because of all the dust that clouded up. No wonder "cowboys" were said to wear bandanas on their necks; they'd pull fabric up for all the dirt.

Lucy figured the menstrual pains were making her delusional, if she were thinking such random and useless things while being kidnapped and her virtue was at risk.

The sun was too hot for the heavier clothes they wore on the ship and in Chicago. Oh, if only she could get free and roll off into a river as they went over it… though she doubted it would get her anywhere either.

The most painful jolt came as the boss on her horse shouted, "Whoa! Hold up there, boys!"

They soon came to a stop at the base of a hill, and Lucy twisted in attempt to see Levy or what it was that they had stopped for. A river?

But no… in the distance, nearly five hundred meters, another riding party. Lucy's hope flared. Perhaps some rangers? She heard they were the police of the west. But as the group of nearly ten horses approached, Lucy squinted through the rising heat and the dust to see that the men atop the horses were not in any sort of uniform. Many of them seemed _shirtless_ -

"Indians," the boss breathed.

Oh. _Perfect_. _Exactly_ what they needed. More wild men.

"Think they're of friendly sorts, boss?" the man with Levy on his horse asked nervously.

"Not the Crow, please..." another muttered in horror like a prayer.

She felt the horse's flanks beneath her side when the boss' horse nickered and took a few steps back. "Can't tell from here," their leader answered. "An' I don't care. If they get close, I'll blow their feathered heads off. Let's try to go 'round 'em-we don' have time for any skirmish."

Too late-the Indians seemed to have spotted them. She managed to see the horses turn in a circle, as if the men upon them were discussing a course of action. The bandits continued to murmur anxiously, beginning to slowly walk to their right.

"Have your guns at the ready, boys," the boss warned. "And if they come by, don't let them see the girls; you know how the Lakota or Gilda like to play hero."

Before she got time to think about his words, she noticed that the Indians had raised a white flag, galloping in their direction. When they were in better range of sight, she saw that they were smiling easily, as if coming upon new friends.

"Stay in place, then," the boss said, voice shaking. "Ready the pistols."

Lucy suddenly feared for the Indians, looking so open and offering peace. They hadn't hurt them or started over to do so-they certainly didn't deserve to get their "feathered heads" blown off. Biting down and working with her chin, Lucy frantically began to work the gag down to her neck.

She finally managed to, and by the time she did, the Indians stopped short only a few feet from them. At their striking appearance, Lucy nearly forgot about warning them. The one at their head was tall and powerful-looking, his hair a shocking yellow and a lightning-shaped scar down his eye. He wore carved bone beads as a sort of breast plate that reached from his neck to his stomach in colors of white, red, and black.

At his right, a man with long, green hair the color of fresh fruit, wearing a leather tunic. On his left, a man with startlingly bright eyes and dark, purple hair. The others clopped on horses cheerfully, and all had skin the color of a deep copper, exotic and beautiful in a way Lucy had never known. Their cheekbones were high, faces sculpted in a way that was almost naturally regal.

And the hair… these were obviously of the Faetaye tribe. Lucy felt a strange urge to laugh at the extraordinarily bizarre situation.

To the front, a brown-splotched white horse moved between that of the green-haired and scarred man. Atop it was a shirtless boy, only in long, light, leather trousers that were fringed all along the outside edge. A choker, like a short version of the other man's breastplate, with a silver cross hanging from it, was tight around his throat, but he was otherwise unadorned.

And when she got a better look at his shaggy, black hair and gray eyes, she also noticed his skin was of a different tone. Tan, but not in an Indian way. In a way similar to the farmers that she'd seen in the markets of cities of America, selling their wares with rough hands and tough skin, made darker by being out in the sun all day. This boy, who looked near eighteen, under all that sun-tanned skin, was _white_.

"Peace," he began to the bandits, face relaxed. His voice had a deep, very evident French accent. "We mean you no 'arm."

Lucy heard a gun cock behind her, and she remembered. She saw the boss murmur to the man next to him, "I'll get the one with the scar."

Swallowing and knowing this would probably get her either dead or beaten half-way there, Lucy shouted out as loud as she could, voice hoarse, "Gun! They're going to shoot-run!"

The tribesmen froze, finally noticing her on the back of the horse in astonishment. One galloped through the rest to be beside the French boy. His sculpted face was tight, dark eyes wide. Pink hair stuck up wildly, and at the intensity of his gaze, she suddenly became breathless.

That was before the butt of the boss' gun slammed into her head, making her see stars, as he hissed, "You little _bitch-_ "

The pink-haired boy shouted something out in a different language, and the rest scattered while the gunshots rang across the plain. The Indians did not seem afraid, leaping from their horses to slash at the bandits with knives or hatchets while others drew rifles and arrows. Lucy couldn't help but scream when an arrow shot into the boss' side right next to her, and she curled up. Oh, she hoped Levy was alright-

She cried out when a knife was whipped out over her, seeing it flash downward and expecting death to come for her… before she realized that the Indian had cut the ropes strapping her to the horse, from wrists and ankles. Lucy gasped when strong arms snatched her away from the cursing boss, who the Indian whacked in the head with the butt of his rifle. The boss fell in a heavy _thump!_ from his horse, unconscious on the ground.

Wincing as the man holding her eased down from his own horse while the battle raged around them, Lucy shook with the shock of it all. Her knees gave out and she felt to them onto the hard ground, where she gripped at the dirt.

She tried to choke out that she needed to free her friend, but her voice was having trouble, and blood from the boss' strike of the gun trickled down her forehead. The wound burned, as did her pelvic area with the cramps.

There was a blur of pink as the dark-eyed boy knelt in front of her, hand gripping her shoulder as he muttered soothing words. A necklace with a few black and white beads with a claw dangled in front of her from his collar. At his closeness, she noticed how he looked nearly her age, she saw the full curve of his mouth, the white feather dangling from a beaded braid on the left side of his face. He spoke his own language, and she choked out, " _Owakahnige sni_." It was one of the only frases she remembered, meaning, _I don't understand._

He paused in his speaking, and in the chaos around them, she heard him say sheepishly in an uncertain, musical accent, "I no English speak. I sorry."

For some reason, in the middle of a small battlefield and in the most dire situation of her life, she let out a laugh at his endearing shyness. She assumed that was probably one of the only phrases he knew as well. At the sound of her laugh, he did smile, a sweet, crooked smile, but then his brow furrowed. She saw where he was looking-the blood soaking her trousers.

Up and down he looked in shock. Lucy bit her lip, curling up slightly in fear. But all he said, blankly, was, " _Winyan_."

Lucy knew that word too. _Woman_.

Slowly, she nodded.

Carefully, he put an arm around her waist and lifted her to her feet. He was surprisingly gentle, for a man that had just knocked another off a horse and unconscious with one blow. Finally, she pointed to where Levy had been last, saying in some hope that he would understand, "My friend! She is tied too!" Lucy put her wrists together as if to indicate, and maimed a knife cutting through them.

All he did was smirk, pointing. She looked to see, through all the fighting, that the French boy was helping Levy stand, hands free of restraints.

Half of the bandits looked beaten down, and and the Indians clearly had the upper hand, ducking and disarming the guns from the men's hands… until a shout arose from over the hill. Everyone present stopped what they were doing, gazing upward to see a third group, racing down the hillside on horses.

A large tribesman with white hair shouted out a word that sounded very much like the English word, "Phantom!"

Indians. More. Bloody. Indians.

One of the bandits muttered, "Phantom tribe?! Aw, damn, we should've run when we had the chance-!"

At the head of this possy was a terrifying man, muscles evident and black, long, unruly hair flying behind him. His eyes seemed red from here, or maybe that was just the effect of the malice written into his every feature.

Levy finally was at her elbow, squeaking, "Not friendly!"

"Let's grab horses and get out of here!" Lucy shouted through the war cries.

"Are you kidding?" Levy choked, aghast. "We're _dead_ without them! Phantom can catch up to us easily, or shoot us in the back for the hell of it! No, we should stay close to the Faetaye!"

Not wanting to admit that she was right, Lucy pulled her over behind a grazing, nonchalant horse at the far side of the fight to hide. The bandits and Faetaye seemed to momentarily team up, shooting and slicing against the Phantom tribe.

The two girls peeked over the back of the bandit's bay horse, watching as the Indians blocked and hacked. The pink-haired boy ran through his enemies in a flash, slashing across the chest of each and whipping out an arrow to his bow whenever he passed through the group. Lucy ducked back behind the horse's belly, grimacing. She'd never seen so much bloodshed before, and felt mildly queasy. _Oh please, please let it be over soon…_

She was so distracted by the fight that she almost didn't hear Levy scream. Lucy whirled to see that the scary man had snuck up behind them and he had grabbed Levy about the waist, only needing one powerful arm to restrain her as he hauled her up onto his shoulder.

"Levy!" Lucy cried out, snatching the nearest possible weapon, an iron rod from the sack of camping supplies on the thief's horse, and stabbed at the Indian with it. He dodged easily, and when she swung it at his head with all her strength, he grabbed it, looking a bit annoyed. His hand slapped out at the horse's rear, making the horse whinny in surprise and gallop away. When he yanked it free, Lucy fell forward, but she stood again, kicking out at him with everything she had and sending her fists flying. Anything to get Levy back-

But a black horse with a white muzzle ran loyally up to the red-eyed man, who leapt upon it with a still writhing and shrieking Levy. Lucy shouted out, "NO! LEVY!"

He was not getting her friend that easily.

Lucy ran to the next horse that galloped nearby-a beautiful stallion so gray he was almost blue, and pulled herself, with much difficulty, upon him. He was clearly an Indian's horse, because he bore no saddle or reins. She sat atop him, painfully and uncertain for a moment as to how the hell she was supposed to direct him, but she leaned over and tried nevertheless, gripping the horse's mane for dear life as she jolted him into action with her heels.

The terrifying man that had kidnapped her friend was calling his friends off, waving for them to join him as he took off back up the hill. They followed obediently, and Lucy rushed ahead of them all. She didn't know how she managed to stay atop the the gray's back, but she was in such a blind rage and panic that she paid very little attention to the blood she must be getting on the poor creature's back and to the horrifying possibility of flying off. She was still in the trail of her friend's dust, Levy calling out to her desperately.

Just then, a painted mare raced beside her, and she saw a flash of pink hair and angry eyes as the Indian upon it jumped in midair from that horse to hers, settling down behind her with an offended English exclamation of, " _My_ horse!"

Gnashing her teeth together as the boy leaned over her to take hold of the mane and likely turn his animal around, she shouted back, " _My_ friend!"

"Friend?" the boy repeated in puzzlement, testing the word in his mouth-clearly, he had no idea what it meant. He froze in mid reach, staring ahead before having an intake of breath. Then he gave off a low growl, and a yell that sounded like, "Gajeel!"

The Indian man with Levy slowed in front of them, turning with narrowed eyes to the pink-haired boy. There was a fiery hatred between them somehow, Lucy realized even as they galloped on-something personal. There was something in their language that he shouted back before he took off again, his other tribe members finally catching up to him, but not without trying to cut their heads off as they passed. Lucy shrieked, but the Indian boy behind her, shoved her head down when the hatchet swung toward it and shielded her.

He pointed forward with determined eyes, clearly asking her to keep the horse running. She did as requested, jamming her heels in again. That's when he _stood_ -planted his feet with his knees bent and somehow kept his balance while drawing his bow and firing arrow after arrow towards the man carrying Levy on his horse. The scary man managed to evade a few shots, but one then embedded into his shoulder. The Indian cried out, but kept going, reaching around to snap off the arrow before continuing on.

The blood dripping into her eyes and out onto her trousers… the pain made her vision blur as the horse continue to run. Dizziness of the shock of the action and loss of her only friend began to set in. Not only were tears of frustration pooling up in her cheeks, but black spots were expanding in her sight. Lucy tried desperately to remain conscious, gripping the horse's hair like a lifeline. Her body gave way, slumping forward with her hands around the gray's neck. The last thing she heard was the boy's concerned gasp as he slowed up the horse and pulled her up so that the world spiraled into the gleaming darkness of his worried eyes.

* * *

Dark. Pain. The smell of blood.

Lucy woke to a confusing and frightening world, sluggishly wrapping her arms around herself and blinking awake. She couldn't help but groan at the pain in her head, though when she reached up, she found a wound that had been there was treated and scabbed over.

Hopelessly confused, she squinted around the room she was in. A cone shaped room that looked to be made of canvas, like that of what they used for ship sails. A small fire burned in the center of the hut-like place, and the smoke curled out of an opening at the top of the structure that was held up by long, wooden poles. Lucy could make out horse hair bunches tied in colorful fabric, hanging from one of the tapered points as if in decoration. The place was warm, and she was rested atop a cushy group of furs, a thick pelt wrapped securely around her.

And then she saw that she was not alone.

Two other women sat around the fire, leather dresses and beads upon their copper skin. Indians. They were chatting cheerfully to one another in a baffling language while they wove dyed reeds methodically through one another in a way that somehow calmed her. When her gaze roamed off to the side drowsily, she saw a pile of baskets, and realized that those were what the women were making.

Lucy closed her eyes again, struggling to remember the details of everything that had happened. She remembered getting kidnapped by the robbers, then a blur of galloping and Indians and dark eyes and Levy-

 _Levy_.

Lucy sat straight up in the makeshift bed, gasping and clawing at the blanket with shaking fingers. At once, the other two women in the tent started, the one on the right rushing to her side. The mere appearance of the woman got her distracted however; the woman was absolutely beautiful, with waving white hair woven into a braid down her back, motherly, sky blue eyes and a gentle expression. Her breathing slowed in attempt to gain control of herself.

"M-my f-friend," she choked out, finding her voice raspy, as if she hadn't used it for days. "T-taken-"

"Yes," the woman replied in surprisingly concise English, stroking her hair lightly as Lucy relaxed into her side, mostly because she was achy. "We help soon. Calm. Everything is okay."

"Wh-who are you?" she croaked, blinking around again through sleep-swollen eyes. "Where am I?"

"My name is Mira," the woman said slowly, clearly trying to remember the correct words. "Faetaye camp. You come almost three days past. We give you sleep medicine for healing. You upset when you wake many time. Remember?"

"N-no. Sorry," she muttered, hugging herself ever the tighter. "Th-this is a t-tipi, right?"

The woman nodded eagerly. "Tipi, yes. Now, done?"

Lucy flushed when the woman pointed down at her pelvic area, clearly asking if her menstrual blood flow was over. Though her cycle was significantly more painful than most girls' her age, it was very short. She managed a nod. "Y-yes."

With a smile, Mira said, "Stand? Yes?"

Wincing, Lucy nodded again, accepting Mira's help to her feet. It did make her slightly woozy, but if what Mira said was correct, Levy had been awaiting help for several days, and Lucy needed to get to that French boy somewhere in this camp. He seemed to speak fluent English, and she could maybe get some direction as to where this 'Phantom' tribe might be camping.

"Come," Mira instructed, leading her past the smiling, green-haired woman who offered a wave, and out to the oval-shaped door that was cut from the fabric. The woman held open the flap that covered the door for Lucy, who thanked her and stepped into the early morning dew. The chill on the plains wind was a relief to breathe in. The first slivers of sun were just barely jutting up from the east, and not a soul was seen around the camp. Tipis were spread seemingly at random and of all different sizes. Lucy's eyes roamed, wide, across the paintings of shapes and bright colors and creatures decorating the outsides of each, all unique. Horses wandered lazily, stopping to graze for a while and not seeming to want to go too far from the camp. There was a sweet aroma drifting about the place, one of some sort of incense and pipe tobacco.

"Come," repeated Mira when she came out behind Lucy, tenderly directing Lucy with a hand toward a river that ran through the back of the camp.

 _Of course,_ Lucy thought. _They wouldn't want to camp long in a place without a water supply._

It bubbled along, not too swift and surely cold to the touch. Mira handed her a small block of something Lucy recognized from her bag-a bar of soap. "You have my supplies? My bags and case?"

Mira frowned, contemplating on the translation. "I do not understand."

"Never mind." All she did was stare from the soap to Mira until the other girl giggled, patting Lucy on the shoulder.

"Bath," she explained, pointing to the river. "Get off blood. New clothing."

Turning away to hide her grimace, Lucy took a step closer to the river. She wasn't about to start complaining about the temperature, what with the fact that it was her only option, and Lucy did love the feeling of being clean of all this blood. But… did Mira really have to be watching?

Lucy glanced back, but to her relief, the other woman had turned her back for privacy, gazing out at the waking sun and the red and yellow rays that danced across the grass. With a last look to make sure no one else was out of the tipis, Lucy quickly stripped of her men's clothes, her bindings, and, trying not to think about the cold, she slipped in.

It was freezing-water rushed against her skin, making her teeth chatter and consider getting out instantly. Oh and while she was stark naked on top of it all… So she made quick work of it, scrubbing all along her body and hair until she felt like she was sparkling and in a very short amount of time. With deep hopes that she wouldn't get hypothermia, Lucy called out, "M-Mira! U-um… is there a towel? Something to cover me?"

Mira only turned back to her with a smile, leaning down to the river and handing her something Lucy hadn't seen her carry out; it was a flat, smooth piece of wood, about half a meter long and and a few centimeters thick. Lucy stared, bewildered, until Mira demonstrated scraping the wood against her skin.

The woman respectfully turned around again as Lucy tentatively heaved herself back onto land and began to slide the wood down her body. The drops rolled off until all she felt her skin was smooth and mostly dry. At this point, Mira handed her a warm hide to wrap herself in when they made their way back to the tipi they'd just come from.

The sun was mostly over the horizon at this point, and Lucy hurried to enter when she saw occupants of the tipis begin to step from their doors and smile at one another, stretching and yawning.

The other woman that had been in the tipi with Mira was gone. Inside, Lucy glanced around for her clothes hopelessly, but Mira put a hand on her shoulder. She lifted a sack that was at the edge of the tipi-Lucy's. In fact, both Lucy and Levy's belongings were resting neatly there, waiting to be opened. Letting out a breath of relief, Lucy rushed to them, scrambling through her bag to pick out woman underclothes. The clean cloth was comforting against her newly washed skin, and Lucy quickly dressed herself fully in them.

After them, she frowned as she dug for her dress, but Mira took her by the arm lightly again and pulled her up. The Indian woman was smiling, holding out a pile of leather. Leather, she realized, that was a dress.

"Oh, I, ah…" Lucy wanted to say that she had a dress, but it would surely be rude to turn down the generous lending of the dress. Besides, Lucy would feel even more awkwardly out of place in this camp in a dress from England. Though being white would attract enough attention, she didn't want more. "Thank you very much," she said in the end, offering a tentative smile. She tried to speak in short and simple phrases when she cleared her throat and asked with embarrassment, "How do I wear dress?"

"I help," Mira offered graciously, letting the folding of the dress fall free.

Soon, Mira had her clothed in a cream-colored skin, skillfully hand-stitched and beaded with beautiful, colorful patterns about the chest and sleeves. It reached all the way to her ankles, and the sleeves, sides, and bottom were all fringed. Extra strips of leather were tied to holes around the bottoms of her legs in pairs; the ends of each had metal attached so that they would clink together cheerfully whenever she moved with the sound of happy bells. There was a studded, hide belt about her waist with a pouch and her knife. Lucy's heart couldn't help but warm when Mira began to comb out her hair and weave it into two, small braids in the most tender way.

"Gift," Mira told her. "Keep clothes-my old clothes. Fit well?"

"Thank you," Lucy said softly, running her hands down the smooth leather, caressing the fringes. It felt good to wear a dress again, no matter what material. "This is very kind of you. It's beautiful."

Mira only rubbed between her shoulderblades, saying, "Welcome. You are guest."

Before they exited the tipi, the Indian woman stopped her and handed her a pair of dark, slipper like boots. Mira showed her how to wear them, sliding the soft pelt over her bare feet and wrapping them around her calves tightly like boots. Lucy bent to put the other on, not wanting the other girl to have to do everything for her. Sloppy, but the strange shoe ought to stay. It had no soles, but Lucy supposed they didn't need them on the barren grasslands.

The camp was already a buzz of activity when they again left the tipi. Indians carried firewood, children, _naked_ or nearly so, were giggling as they approached an old man with smile-wrinkles at the edges of his eyes. He seemed to be telling them a story.

Crafts were being made by laughing girls in sitting in circles, skins were being scraped clean of blood and fat, and ingredients were being grinded to mush by a mother with a baby wrapped in skins that dozed, strapped to her back. Lucy's mouth suddenly began to water in a very unladylike way at the smell of meat cooking on a nearby spit, and some kind of bread that two young men shared as they walked along with their horses. Since she'd been in and out of consciousness, she didn't remember the last time she ate...

Lucy was so entranced by looking around the foreign place that she almost didn't see everyone stopping to stare at her, or the dark-haired boy standing stoically outside the tent.

"Oh!" she gasped in surprise when he turned to face her. It was the French boy, dressed same as yesterday but clean of all dirt and blood. She felt her face warm at the sight of bare skin on his upper half; she'd only recently seen a boy without a shirt, but that was on a ship with older men that she'd rather look away from. This boy was muscled and lean. Up close, she noticed a feather woven into his hair and drifting in the light breeze. He was examining her closely, not in a leering sort of way, but calculating. Eventually, he said, accent still very thick, "Bonjour, mademoiselle. My name is Gray. What ees your name?"

Lucy answered automatically, "M-Miss Heartfilia, sir."

The boy let out a short laugh, saying, "No, we use first names 'ere. Your Christian name?"

"S-sorry," she murmured, hands twisting her dress. "Lucy. My name is Lucy."

At this point, Mira, behind her, spoke something in Faetayen to Gray, who responded similarly. With one last smile, Mira wandered off to the right.

Lucy bit her lip. She'd never been allowed to be alone with a boy before…

"Zey leave you with me because I speak Engleesh best," he explained. Gray was still rather aloof-looking, though he did not act threatening in the least. "Excusez-moi, Lucy, it ees still bit… euh, rusty, no? I do not speak eet often."

"That is alright," Lucy said quickly. "I do speak a little French, if you forget a word." She then winced, hoping she didn't sound condescending, but he didn't seem to think so.

"Merci, Lucy. Zat would 'elp. I assume you 'ave questions?" She noticed that he also had the slight musical accent of the Faetayen language.

He began to walk, and she took the cue to accompany him. "Yes, many," Lucy told him apologetically. "I just… my friend, Levy, was captured by that other tribe. I need to know where the camp is-I must save her as soon as possible. I do not know what they could do to her, and she's so small-"

"Calme, mademoiselle," Gray cut her off. "We know where your friend ees, and we will 'elp you retrieve her. Eet would be your death to enter Phantom's tribe alone and without weapon, zough your will is admirable."

"Y-you will?" Lucy choked. "O-oh sir, thank you so much-"

"Eet ees just Gray," he corrected. "And eet is our, em… 'ow you say… euh, _responsibility_ , to 'elp. She was taken while under our protection, and we will not leave her to zose 'orrible people. Also," Gray offered a nod to her of appreciation as they passed a few tiny girls playing with cloth dolls, "Your warning saved us. We owe you much for ze lives of our men."

"Oh… I-it was nothing," she dismissed quickly, fiddling with her fringes and hiding her blush.

His smile was amused. "Eet was to ze families, no? And we also 'ave been trying to raid zeir camp for a...a while, now."

"Why is that?" Lucy asked. They strolled by a couple of boys that were playing with a strange sort of ball.

Gray didn't meet her eyes this time, looking darkly into the distance. "Zey 'ave stolen anozer of our tribe. Zee woman I am betrothed to. She 'as been gone for four months and two days."

Her stomach clenched in sympathy for him, eyes widening. "O-oh my… I'm so sorry, Gray."

He gripped his belt, which held a knife, hatchet, and leather pouch. His jaw was clenched, face like stone, though his voice shook slightly as he swallowed and muttered, "We will get her 'ome soon. I 'ave seen her when we got close, so I know she ees alive… I am simply afraid, for ze Phantom people only take women for two reason."

"Which are?" Lucy inquired, feeling her gut sink

"Eizer zey need a 'ostage," he said slowly, "or zey need more wives."

For her sake, Lucy hoped that in Levy and Gray's fiancee's case, it was the former.

"If I can stay here until she is recovered, I am willing to work," Lucy told him firmly, figuring it best to change the subject. "I will earn my keep for a short while, if you'd be willing to take me on. I don't like to impose… but I really have nowhere to go, and certainly not without Levy."

"We expected you stay here, Lucy," Gray said, sounding surprised. "You are guest. You weel work, but guest. Of course, we must find you someone to share tipi-"

"Not the one I was in?" she asked, confused, but then winced; she always had a bad habit of interrupting.

Gray only laughed. "Of course not! Zat is the tipi for women in moon cycle."

"Moon cycle?" Lucy was pretty sure she knew what he was talking about, and felt red creeping up her neck.

"Ze blood," he answered easily, indeed referring to her menstrual cycle, while he watched some children race between them. "Zat you get every… euh… month, no? Eet is time in which women are close to Mother Earth. Eet is… what word… euh, miracle, yes, zat women live after so much blood, and eet ees sacred part of life cycle. Yes, women sit togezer and make zings unteel eet ees over. See?"

Lucy, caught completely off guard with this new point of view, stared at him open mouthed for a few moments. "So… you do not believe women are… cursed, or demonic during this time?"

It was his turn to gape in shock. "Dieu, no! Eet is holy. Very holy time. Women pure and holy. Ze whole tribe 'as celebration when girl gets this for 'er first time. Then she is grown woman, eligible for courting."

"Oh." Feeling greatly enchanted by the idea, she asked another question that had been rather obvious. "Em, if you're French, why are you in an Indian tribe?"

Lucy hoped it didn't sound too personal, but he answered simply, "My mozzer was Indian, fazzer, French. Several of my generations 'ave gone on like this, because of ze fur trade. My parents died, as well as my, euh, oh, adoptive mozzer, so I travel here and ask to stay. They keep me ever since, and like zat I speak French, Engleesh, and Faetayen." Before she could offer awkward condolences about his parents, he nodded up their path. "We are close."

"To where?"

"Zat 'orse you were riding," Gray mused, approaching a tipi decorated with red and arrows and horses. "Eet belonged to zat pink-'aired, eediotic pigdog. 'e requested to see you once you woke, so I take you to 'im. Eenstead of 'unting, 'e chose to stay and meet you."

"Oh, the pink-haired boy!" Lucy exclaimed, memories of his dark eyes rushing back. "Is he alright? I must thank him indeed and apologize for using his horse and- wait, did you just call him an idiot? He seemed kind to me…"

Gray scoffed, "Pfft, kind, maybe, but still an eediot. Yes, 'e ees fine. 'e 'ad been checking on you so much that Mira shout at 'im to go away. 'e run like devil was chasing 'im." He looked into the distance as if recalling a particularly fond memory.

Finding her face hot yet again, she murmured, "That is very considerate of him."

"Still an eediot."

A loud whoop was heard behind the tipi, and a horse's snort. Gray waved Lucy forward, and she tentatively followed him, leather wrapped feet padding gently against the grass where dew still clung. Careful to avoid the stakes holding down the tipi cover, she stepped around to see the boy about which they'd been speaking, being nuzzled and nudged by his horse. The boy was laughing, stroking his animal and trying to braid its hair. He was dressed only in trousers with the fringes and a belt. Oh, Lucy was still _very_ unaccustomed to men without a shirt. How the muscle contracted and bulged under taught, dark skin was enough to make her want to turn around with her ears steaming in embarrassment and run away.

He was cooing to his horse, words that were both harsh and smooth in their formation. When Gray cleared his throat, the boy paused, gaze snapping over to where they stood. His eyes became inexplicably bright when they rested upon Lucy, looking positively delighted to see her though he didn't even know her name.

The boys exchanged a few words in Faetayen, leaving her feeling rather awkward. The one with pink hair left his horse to walk up to her, where he stood a head taller and smiled a crooked smile. Gray murmured something in his ear, and he nodded quickly before trying slowly, "My name...is?" He glanced quickly to Gray for a moment as if asking if what he'd said was correct. Seeing the Gray nod, he then continued jovially, "Natsu! My name is Natsu."

* * *

 **Greetings Earthlings!**

 **Longer chapter today, and sooner than I thought. I've been on a writing roll lately, and writing fanfiction instead of my manuscript which is BAD but eh better than nothing. School approaches and I internally cry for this reason. Finally get to meet the tribe a little, though… Lol Gray's accent was so fun to write. Yes, his betrothed is Juvia. XD**

 **Historical Note:**

 **Gray stated up there the true opinion of several tribes. The Faetaye tribe I'm creating is a mixture of different cultural aspects I like from different tribes. Women would stay in the Menstrual Huts to wait out their period, making crafts, chatting, being waited upon, and sometimes giving advice to those who needed it, because they were considered especially wise when in such a close state to Mother Earth. Some tribes did use the 'wooden towel', or that wood that Mira handed Lucy. Natives took baths every day possible, and sometimes just rolled on the ground to get dry. Fringes were cut into the clothes to act as a horse's tail; they'd keep bugs away while they walked through the grass, as well as help shake water off. It is plausible that they'd take in a white boy like Gray, especially one with their backgrounds; French fur traders were generally very kind to Native Americans, and shared customs with one another. Often, the men would marry into the tribes or encourage their sons to do so.**

 **See ya sometime, maybe in the oneshot I'm planning or the next chapter of DDD!**

 **Mizpah,**

 **~LoneStorm**


	4. White Shell Gleaming

Levy had dreamed of meeting Native Americans her whole life, but none of it she'd ever pictured like this. It was Lucy, poor and confused Lucy that had been likely taken in by the Faetaye, and Levy by the most feared Indians on the continent?

She was perfectly aware that life was unfair, but life was taking its 'unfair' leeway too far this time.

She'd been held on that horse for nearly half of an hour, wanting desperately to get off but knowing it would be her death if she did so. The terrifying man that had taken her did not speak a word to her the entire way, only gritting his teeth at the pain likely in his shoulder from that good shot by the boy that had been on the back of the horse that Lucy rode after her. Levy had known that it was hopeless, but she remained very touched at how hard Lucy had tried to get her back.

It hardly mattered now. As soon as tipis came into sight, real tipis, leather was lashed around her wrists and she was lifted from the horse. The other men with the group laughed and whooped as the scary guy, who she'd figured out was called 'Gajeel' from the others, tugged her along. His face was set in stone, bored and hateful all at once. His red skin, sculpted face, and body would have made him handsome if it weren't for his expression and the silver metal pierced along his eyebrows, nose, and ears.

Others in the village wandered out to see the commotion, either letting out hollers of laughter or shaking their heads in exasperation. It was a long row of them, all scattered along one side of a rushing river as the sun went down.

Levy's heartbeat seemed to speed every second that she was pulled along to the tipi on the far end of them all. Well, she did know this tribe spoke the same language as the Faetaye, only with a slightly different dialect. She'd be able to understand them, at least.

It was everything she'd always wanted to see; the canvas tipis reaching toward the sky, the leather and cloth clad Indians adorned in turquoise and bone… but all wrong. This was all wrong.

Finally, they stopped before the tipi. From within stepped a creepy-looking man with several fangs hanging from his neck and colors of black and red on his shirt. His hair was dark, sneer evident. He was an older man, and she assumed he was an elder. She wasn't supposed to speak unless spoken to, and no matter how much she disliked it, she'd rather not get shot.

So she remained silent and glaring until the one beside her, Gajeel, spoke. He obviously didn't realize she could understand him. In his language, he said, "I found one, Jose, as you asked."

"Good," responded the chief. "She is a tiny thing, but she has a strong face. Make use of her. You may keep her if you wish."

"Excuse me?" she burst finally in their native language. "What do you mean 'keep her'?!"

The chief's mouth fell open, and Gajeel dropped her wrists in surprise, bending down to stare at her in astonishment.

Irritably, she snapped, "Yes, I have a voice. And a name. And I will not be _kept_ by anyone!"

With that, she spun, jerked her knee up into Gajeel's groin, and took off to the nearest horse.

She barely registered his high shout of pain, the angry exclamations of the other men as they bolted after her. Twisting her aching wrists, she made them come loose from their bindings and shook them out.

Her lungs burned as she reached the black horse that she'd arrived on. He was huge, a beast that could crush her under a hoof, but he seemed gentle enough. Levy had managed the element of surprise, but she prayed it would be enough. The others were approaching quickly, and so she shoved her heels into the horse's bare stomach and he instantly took off toward the west. Her freedom was on the horizon, until something was shouted, a name-

The horse skidded to a stop, ears perking up in recognition. Evidently, the horse responded to his name. She gasped, thrown forward slightly and dug her knees in again. "Move! What are you doing?!"

The horse just stood until she gave up, sliding off and running faster than she had in her life-

She screamed when men jumped down from their horses, roughly snatching her up so that her feet kicked the air. When she was lowered, a large hand slapped across her face with enough force to make stars flicker into her vision. She felt a drop of blood slip down where metal from a ring had sliced across her skin.

"Stop that!" came the deep voice of Gajeel as he stormed up, eyes flashing as he pushed the others away from her. "She is mine! You do not lay a hand on her if you don't wish for an arrow through your eye!"

They all backed off rather quickly at that, cringing and muttering apologies as they leapt up on their horses and took off to safety.

Levy shook in fear, trembling hands pushing him away hard by the chest and stumbling back so that she fell promptly to the ground.

Gajeel seemed rather unaffected, crouching down beside her and taking her again by the wrist. A calloused thumb carefully swiped the blood from her cheek. His scarlet eyes were intense, and somehow reassuring. "Come. I will not hurt you."

"Let me go," she whispered in Gilda, language of the Faetaye and its fellow tribes, eyes stinging. "Please let me go."

"Come." He did not sound gentle, but acted it, putting an arm lightly about her shoulders to lift her to her feet. "Can you walk?"

"I have to get back to my friend," Levy said, jaw tight in strain not to cry with frustration and terror for what was to come. "Please, I am of no use to you. I am not of the Faetaye tribe. I can speak like you and them but I can't give you information or anything else."

"I will not hurt you," he repeated. "Stop being difficult."

"You have no right to speak to me that way," she hissed at him, and he only rolled his eyes.

" _Do_ you shut up?" he sighed. "Come with me already!"

She reluctantly followed, knowing there was no other option yet. Surely she could make her escape during the night sometime, but for now… he said he would not hurt her, and she'd have to trust that until her time for freedom arrived.

He took her to a roomy tipi of black, gray, and red, rolling up the flop of cloth over the door for her to enter.

It was a surprisingly cozy place, clean and fluffy furs decorating two places that looked to be used as beds. A fire crackled mournfully in the center, with a few weapons and keepsakes hanging from the ties of the canvas.

A woman, looking about Levy's age, sat at the fire, moving some meat upon the metal pot over it while humming to herself. She'd looked up when the door opened, blue, braided hair flicking around as her sad eyes brightened in delight.

Gajeel stepped in behind Levy, gruffly gesturing that she should go to the left and sit down. She did so, slowly, taking a seat beside the blue-haired girl. Seeing someone else with the same color hair was a very novel experience.

"I am Juvia." The girl smiled, patting Levy's hand. "You must be afraid, but it is okay. You are safe with Juvia and Gajeel."

"A-are you his wife?" Levy asked, hoping it didn't sound rude; Juvia was the first kind face she'd seen here, after all.

But Juvia only laughed at the suggestion. "Oh, no! No, no. Gajeel took Juvia in as a sister. Chief Jose ordered him to go find a wife, and when they raided my tribe, he brought me back to satisfy Jose." Juvia's face was haunted, a flicker of precious memory passing. "But I told Gajeel I was in love with my betrothed back at my tribe and Gajeel did not love me like that anyway, so he told Jose that I was unsuitable as a wife but he'd like to keep me to help with his tipi. Jose agreed; he loves Gajeel like a son."

"What tribe are you from?" Levy asked, eyes wide.

"The Faetaye," Juvia explained. "You must be of Gilda origin, with that hair and how you're speaking our language. Perhaps you are from the Lamia, or Pegusai?"

"N-no-"

"Do you know of my betrothed, Gray? Is he well?"

"I-I'm sorry," Levy interjected. "I am from England, and learned this language from my Faetayan mother. I have never been to their tribe before."

"Oh," sighed Juvia in disappointment. "I see. Well… Gajeel says he will get me back to Gray somehow. I believe him. And Gray is a good man… I am sure he is looking for me."

Levy felt a strange urge to comfort her. "I'm sure he is, too," she told her, squeezing her fingers.

Juvia nodded, seeming to come out of her daze and look Levy up and down. "Well, we must get you new clothes, perhaps a bath. We cannot have you looking all dirty tomorrow."

"What's tomorrow?" asked Levy in trepidation.

It was Gajeel who answered, laying with a bored expression atop his hides and twirling an arrowhead in his rough fingers. "Tomorrow is when you start pretending to be betrothed to me."

* * *

"What does it mean? Your name?"

The three of them walked across the plain together now, Natsu's horse following his master faithfully. Natsu had given them both food, this kind of flat, flakey, delicious bread that when she'd asked what it was called, Gray had only shrugged and said, "Bread from frying pan. Fry bread."

Gray rolled his eyes while Natsu frowned. "'e does not speak more Engleesh zan zat. You may as well ask the 'orse."

Lucy couldn't help but give a slight glare. "Well, I wasn't fully sure. It didn't seem polite to start talking about him right in front of him. What does his name mean, then? And yours?"

"'is name was geeven to 'im by 'is fazer," explained Gray, the feather in his hair restless. His English seemed to be improving while he spoke. "From a far-off place zat a trusted tradesman told us of. Ze word means 'summer'. But Natsu ees not 'is name anymore. 'e just chooses to use 'is birth name to 'onor 'is fazer who died protecting zis village. 'e was a good man."

"Oh," she said quietly, glancing in Natsu's direction. He was watching them in interest before impatiently speaking in his language to Gray. Gray responded while rolling his eyes, causing Lucy to ask, "What is he saying?"

With an airy wave, Gray just said, "'e wants to know what we speak of."

"Did you tell him?"

"I tell 'im we talk about how ugly 'e ees and to go play with 'is 'orse."

Lucy protested, "He is not _ugly-_ "

Gray ignored her, continuing, "My name ees… well, eet ees simply the color. I 'ave an Indian name, but like to be called Gray for reasons similar to Natsu."

"What is his real name? You said it isn't… anymore?"

"As one grows," he told her slowly, "zey sometimes get name to match zem. Ze elders may give new name for a special happening to zem or when they become man or woman. Our chief name Natsu somezing zat means, euh… I zink… Fire Dancer, or 'e Who Dances weeth Fire, ees more, euh, accurate, when he turn sixteen."

"Why?"

"All zese questions," sighed Gray, rubbing his temples. "Do zey 'ave an end?"

Lucy gave a huff of frustration. Was it not logical that she'd have many questions? At this point, Natsu demanded again, "Gray! I speak Lucy. I speak."

Gray groaned. "Do you even know what we are saying?"

Natsu only furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. Lucy, taking pity on him, implored, "Could you translate for us? Please? And without insulting him?"  
Gray looked amused. "Oho, a lady standing up for Natsu. As my original people would say, 'ooo lala'."

Crossing her arms, Lucy began to lose her patience. "Do you mean to test me with your teasing, sir?"

Holding up his hands in the universal sign of surrender. "My apologies, miss. I am sure you 'ave 'ad a trying week." Clearing his throat, he began a string of deep and short words all put together to a foreign sentence. Natsu responded, eyes lighting up and nodding to her as if replying.

"'e says 'e 'as a geeft for you," Gray told her, sounding surprised. Gesturing from Natsu to Lucy, they stopped and Natsu began to rifle through his pouch. Soon, he brought out a necklace, several colorful blue and yellow beads strung on leather with a shimmering, circular stone like a thin opal. He passed it to her with a smile, saying a few words in the language she did not understand.

Gray translated as Lucy ran her fingers along the smooth pendant, "'e says 'e geeve eet to you because you are special."

"Special?" Lucy repeated, gazing down at her present with fascination. "Why?"

"You rode 'is 'orse," Gray answered. "Natai lets no one ride 'im except Natsu or someone riding with Natsu behind zem. Anyone else who tries get thrown off. 'e says you must be very special person if Natai let you ride. 'orses are very good at sensing zese zings."

"Oh," she said, looking back up to an expectant Natsu with a shy grin. "Tell him 'thank you very much', and that it is absolutely beautiful."

Gray repeated her words in Faetayan, Natsu beaming back when he heard them and saying something else. In return, Gray said, "'e wonders eef 'e might 'elp you put eet on. I assume 'e does not want eet broken."

"Y-yes," she responded, face slightly heating more at the thought. "Of course. Thank you."

After Gray relayed the message, Natsu nodded and came behind her, gently taking the gift and untying the back. From behind, his warm fingers brushed against her neck as he tied it into place so that it rested just below her collarbones. She touched it lightly, feeling a pleasant tingling when he smoothed a few loose strands of her hair back into place. Lucy turned to him with a smile. He regarded her with a curiosity, eyes traveling from her hair, to her eyes, nose, mouth, and back to her eyes. Eventually, he proclaimed. "English. I English speak. Lucy English I speak."

Gray groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Do not try to speak a language you only know about ten words in, you _eediot_." He repeated this in Natsu's language, or at least she assumed he did at the glare he received. Natsu's response was clipped and irritated, imploring.

"What is it that he wants?" she questioned.

"'e wants to learn Engleesh from you," sighed Gray. "So zat 'e can speak to you by 'imself. 'e does not like to need me for anyzing. I tell 'im zat you may not weesh to stay long after you find your friend, but 'e does not listen. And I tell 'im you cannot speak our language so you cannot teach translation, but 'e stupid."

"I have a book," she blurted. "My friend had a book with all the translations. I know how she wrote the pronunciations. It's back in her bag in the tipi. I-I could…" she shrugged meekly, looking up to Natsu's eyes and then back down. "I could teach him a little."

Gray let out a long suffering breath, throwing up his hands in defeat and told Natsu what she'd said. The way his face lit up when he heard was worth all of her hesitation. She made an undignified squeaking noise when he grabbed her hand and began racing with her down the hill, laughing, "Lucy! English!"

With a giggle in return, she let him pull her back to camp. Well, her goal was to get Levy back, but there was no reason she couldn't have a little adventure along the way.

* * *

 **Hallo!**

 **Well, last chapter was long, but this was more normal sized. Got a little insight into Levy and Gajeel, some more questions answered about Natsu. It's been a little while since I posted anything; school is starting up with a bang as well as my anxiety issues, which leads to depression, which leads to being unmotivated to write XD Hope you enjoyed, and I don't know when I'll update next…**

 **Historical Note:**

 **The Gilda thing might be a little confusing. I made up that name, just like I made up Faetaye. It's the name of their overall tribe, and it splits into smaller groupings. For example, the Lakota tribe had sub-tribes such as Oglala and Hunkapapa. Gilda's sub-tribes so far are Faetaye, Phantom, Lamia, and Pegasai. It will be explained later the conflict that arose between Phantom and its brother tribes that brought them to war.**

 **There was also a bit of confusion I saw in a review about how the dialog of the last chapter said "You know how the Lakota and Gilda like to play hero". That just meant that those tribes would be willing to save someone in need, like Levy and Lucy. The bandit was just giving them a reason why they couldn't let the Indians see the girls. When I mentioned the Crow, sorry if I'm insulting any Crow out there, but people were generally terrified of that tribe. I remember my grandmother telling me how whenever they saw Crow out in the Dakotas, they'd hide as quickly as possible. They used to be a more ruthless tribe, though I doubt they are now.**

 **The pendent described by Lucy is the inside of an abalone shell. Natives often used them for jewelry; it's a clam-like thing with a white inside that reflects blue, purple, and green and it's very smooth.**

 **Lastly, I posted on tumblr photosets and explanations of tipis and outfits I experienced/used in my last reenactment event. Check it out if you'd like to know more about them. :) In them I describe stuff that may help you see why Gajeel reasoned that Juvia could help him with the tipi and a lot more stuff. I'll repost them for you.**

 **(omg and frybread is the most fantastic stuff make sure you put butter and cinnamon/sugar on it it's amaaaaazing)**

 **Mizpah,**

 **~LoneStorm**


	5. Half-Blood Boiling

To Lucy's bewilderment, it hadn't been the docks of New York, the bustling streets of Chicago, or the open train ride across the west that had made the euphoria of America's freedom burst through her veins; it was the rolling wind across the expanding plain rushing across her cheeks as Natsu pulled her to the village that sent her heart soaring.

"English. Lucy," he repeated happily here and there, finally passing the poles of the first tipi and tugging her off to the structure at the far end of the camp. The tipi was white and yellow against the tan of the canvas, the old, white-haired man that had been telling stories peacefully sitting outside of the tipi with Mira and the yellow-haired, scarred man. The stop before him was abrupt, causing Lucy to squeak and scuff up dust beside Natsu, who waved excitedly.

"Woman is Lucy!" Natsu said in attempt to introduce her. "Lucy my speak English."

The man let out a good-natured laugh, shaking his head and saying a few foreign words of which Lucy could only make out "silly boy". Lucy looked between them, unsure of the greeting she was supposed to give, especially to such an inadequate introduction. Bow? Curtsey? Do some kind of tribal symbol?

But the man stood, and she fully realized just how short he was; the old man barely reached her stomach. She had no idea a person, much less an Indian, could be so tiny. Seeming to have understood Natsu's garbled try at English, he said in a more knowledgeable language, "Hello, Lucy. I am Chief Makarov of Faetaye. You are welcome here. We thank you for help to warriors."

"Hello, Chief Makarov," she said hesitantly, deciding on a small and awkward bow. "Er, I thank you for a kind welcome and care. I was happy to help."

It looked as if he understood, and he smiled in a gentle way as Mira had. "We will find friend. You teach Natsu English?"

"I thought it would be a good idea," she said quickly, forgetting that he might not understand.

But he kept up. "Good. It is good. Natsu too lazy before. Is good for him to learn. Thank you for help."

Natsu was still beaming, having gotten over being called silly, and Lucy giggled a bit at how he didn't realize that he was being continuously picked on. "It is no trouble. It was a pleasure to meet you, Chief Makarov."

Lucy smiled widely as she gave a courtesy, because they seemed to accept the expressions of her culture. Though it didn't look like he completely understood what she'd said, he looked to have gotten the jist, nodding to her cheerfully. "You know Mirajane? Grandson Laxus?"

"I have met Mirajane," Lucy told him. "I have not had the pleasure of meeting your grandson."

The man with the scar merely inclined his head to her, muttering something in his language that she couldn't make out. Lucy decided to take it as a greeting and gave an uncertain smile in return.

"Lucy, Lucy, Lucy!" Natsu urged, apparently impatient. "English."

"Yes, yes, I'm coming!" Lucy sighed to him, still rather amused. "I need to get my book first."

Obviously he didn't understand a word of her response, made evident when she bid farewell to the chief and made her way back to the women's tipi. He followed her, hands moving imploringly. "Lucy! English speak."

Lucy decided to ignore him, leaving him outside of the tipi to dig through her sack for the book. It was bound together with tight string knots, ink handwriting within flourished and easily legible. Levy had written notes in the margins that her mother had left, and even seeing her handwriting sent an ache to her chest. Oh, how afraid Levy must be; Lucy could only pray that they wouldn't hurt her, that they'd leave her be until they had time to rescue her. Luckily, the one quote from Shakespeare that had always reminded her of Levy provided some comfort: " _Though she be but little, she is fierce."_

When she returned to Natsu, he was bouncing on his heels and tapping his fingers. "English, Lucy."

With a roll of her eyes, she led him off to the side of the river, where it was peaceful and quiet compared to the small bustle of the tiny village. There, she tried to sit in the new dress, eventually putting her legs off to one side and letting the fringes flutter in the breeze as they dangled at her knees. While she still hadn't gotten over the nerves of being left alone with a man, Natsu seemed far more invested in playing with his horse than an English man would be when sitting alone with a young lady. Natsu plopped right down on his stomach, eyes wide at her eagerly as if she was about to magic a language into his head.

"Er…" Lucy began awkwardly, tapping the book against her palm. "Well, we should probably start with 'Hello'."

His big eyes blinked in the most innocent way. "Well, we should probably start with 'Hello'," Natsu recited clumsily.

She let out a laugh. "No! No, no…"

"No, no, no-"

With a groan, she flipped open the book and searched quickly for the equivalent to 'no'. When she founded, she read it out loud, and he instantly stopped, confused.

They started with "hello". From there, she picked a blade of grass, telling him the word and showing it to him. Each new word seemed to fascinate him, rolling inelegantly from his mouth. Natsu did try, but also did get distracted by the occasional passing butterfly. If she was not occupying him with a new word or phrase every moment, he was fiddling with the claw about his neck, giggling about his horse nosing him in the head, or happily watching the expansive sky.

After a while, she paused to look upward with him, perhaps hoping to see what was so interesting. It was the same sky as everywhere else… But the sun seemed to shine more gently than before, the wind picking up the smell of the river and peace over the village. Struck yet again with the surrounding hills and the gold that gleamed from them, Lucy flipped through the pages to find one last word before they finished.

" _Wasté_ ," Lucy read off, catching his attention. She stared off across the land, spreading out her hand to indicate the freedom bursting from every piece of sky. She translated, " _Beautiful._ "

When gaze fell back to him, he was staring back, more focused than before. " _Bea-u-ti-ful_ ," Natsu repeated, his eyes not leaving hers for a long, long time.

* * *

Pretending to be betrothed to Gajeel was reaching the end of Levy's patience.

She'd escaped from England not only for adventure, but to avoid the overpowering patriarchy. Here, she'd dived into condescending world of confusion. Firstly, she wasn't to speak unless spoken to, expected to do everything Gajeel asked without question and attend to all chores while he practiced fighting with the other men. It was absolutely degrading, and though Juvia helped and assured her that the Faetaye would rescue them, Levy could barely stand it.

Not only was her role of his slave humiliating, but Gajeel was so. Bloody. _Annoying_. She'd been prepared for possible cruelty or awkwardness, but not this insensitive teasing and lack of care for what he asked her to do. He might have shown some dedicated protection to her at first, but his kindness certainly didn't translate much further.

She was scraping some skins, the hide giving off a revolting scent in the scorching sun. Gajeel strolled up, a sheen of sweat across his chest from the heat and exercise. Levy tried to avoid looking at the corded muscle stretched under his tanned skin. He nonchalantly looked down at her, saying in Gilda, "I need some water."

"Looks like it," was her only response in his language (Lately, she'd spoken in it so much that she'd stopped dreaming and sometimes even thinking in English), scrubbing at a particularly stubborn bit of extra skin.

At this, he frowned. "Get me some water."

"Oh, pardon me, my _love_ ," she said in the most scathing tone she could conjure. "I was not _aware_ that your legs were so weak that you were unable to _get it yourself._ "

His face turned a satisfyingly scarlet color as he sputtered, "Woman!"

Perhaps she was taking slight advantage of how she knew he wouldn't hurt her, but perhaps he deserved to be taken for granted in return.

"I am very strong," he boasted, teeth gritted. "The strongest!"

A smile twitching on her lips, she said, knowing it would upset him the greatest, "I am not sure-that pink-haired boy from the other tribe looked much stronger to me."

She had not thought he could look more frustrated; he could. "That dog of a boy is no match for me!"

"It did not look like it when you were running away from him with his arrow in your shoulder," Levy further said.

"I was keeping him from taking you!" Gajeel protested. "Why do you insist on being so difficult?!"

"Because I would rather you have let him take me! With my friend and a tribe of kindness rather than this place!" she burst.

A wince of... _hurt_ flickered across his face, leaving Levy surprised. Cheeks still flushed, he did not meet her eyes. "You are _that_ unhappy here?"

She wasn't going to lie, and now that it was out, she couldn't stop. "Yes! I am treated like your slave rather than your betrothed! You are insufferable and the only person here I remotely like is Juvia! Now go get your own damn water and definitely a bath!"

A lady should never speak in such a way, especially to a man, she knew, but neither was she considered a proper lady any longer.

Gajeel only seemed to be able to stare at her for several long moments that made her feel ever the more awkward and slightly guilty. And rather scared; perhaps she'd gone too far this time. Perhaps his insistence not to hurt her had reached its last straw... But he only turned, face still carved in a feelingless stone, and walked away.

"Figures," she muttered under her breath. "Just walk away. Do not say _sorry_ or anything..."

Levy wiped some blood from the hide onto the grass, shaking excess from her bone scraper before raising it back up-

A small, clay bowl of water was set carefully beside her, and with a thump, so was Gajeel, drinking from a similar container nonchalantly while watching her. "You must be thirsty," he said. "Drink with me?"

Slowly, Levy reached for the water and curled her fingers around the cool clay. "Thank you," Levy said, still awed of this sudden generosity.

He did not acknowledge her thanks, but instead said, "This tribe used to be more like the Faetaye. Before Jose became chief. Many younger boys here do not remember this, but I do. Women were respected, and we all did our part. Perhaps I have forgotten more than I thought. I... I am... sorry."

Feeling a bit ashamed of her outburst, Levy murmured back, "It is alright. I am simply... frustrated. I am sorry too. You have not hurt me or let others do so, and I am grateful for this."

"Well you _are_ my betrothed," Gajeel said, a mocking smirk winding up his face. "I cannot have other men touching you."

For some reason, she found her face growing hot. "We are not truly betrothed, as you well know. Why did you choose to take _me_ , anyway?

The smirk only grew. "More portable."

Levy blinked, and though short jokes usually irked her to no end, she found herself laughing and clapping a hand over her mouth to stifle the sound. His smile morphed into a triumphant one, and he added in a reasonable voice, "I also do not like white people in the least, so the one with yellow hair was not an option."

At this, her laughter faded, and her eyes began to narrow. "I am half white, if you do remember."

His comment seemed to sink under her skin, sending cold seeping into her chest. This place was supposed to be more accepting than Europe-different from all the pureblooded English children who would sneer and call her a mutt, halfling, savage, and mistake.

 _Perhaps it only makes sense that I would not fit into either world_ , she mused bitterly.

"Well yes, but you were about as close to a decent woman as I would get. We can ignore the downside of your white blood," sighed Gajeel, draining his bowl and flopping down into the grass. "The rest are all murderers and disrespectful."

"Some of them could say the same of you," Levy quipped, water tasting suddenly sour. "And I would prefer, sir, that you would refrain from treating my treasured heritage, something _very_ out of my own control, as if it is something that spoils me."

The lighthearted mood was crumbling, and she took that as her cue to stand and work elsewhere. Gajeel scrambled up beside her, arguing, "I did not mean it like that-"

"If you would also refrain from implying that I was simply the minorly better of two options rather than at least keeping me imprisoned because you may have taken a liking to a woman for once," she went on, pace quickening to where she knew Juvia was off weaving.

"Oh, is that it?" he said, tone mocking and higher. "Does Tiny have all her little feelings hurt because I do not fancy her?"

She spun to glower at him, hissing out, " _Tiny_ simply thinks it was silly of her to consider that _maybe_ you weren't as bigoted and uncaring as the rest, and _maybe_ her being here actually _meant_ something to someone rather than being a torturous waste of time."

And this time, when she stormed off, Gajeel did not follow.

* * *

 **HEYA LOVELIES!**

 **I've really missed you guys! It's been sooo long because of stage crew and people issues and my new job. But I'm back now, even if the chapter is shorter than the last. But I guess I did mention before that there will be less chapters chapters and they would not be as long or often as TKOF. While you may think I owe you a longer chapter because of my hiatus, these five pages are really all the time I've had XD Anywho, hope you enjoyed the chapter, and I hope to get back to writing some presents and Double Dad Dilemma!**

 **A SPECIAL THANKS TO THE DEAR phantompierce-okamoto ON TUMBLR FOR SPARING HER TIME FOR DORK ME AND MY DUMB WRITER'S BLOCK! Phantom helped me get unstuck and I am very grateful. :) This chapter would not have come into being without her, so thank you so much again!**

 **Thank you so much to all the fantastic reviews! Honestly, you guys are too good to me I don't deserve the overwhelming cuteness :3 You guys are what get me to keep this trucking on**

 **Historical Note:**

 **Eh, not too much new stuff here. Men and women all had their roles, like woman were in charge of taking down/packing up tipis, keeping the fire going, cooking, and creating clothes. They both thought each other valuable and loved the other gender for the roles they completed in their family. In my tribe, if a man disrespected a woman, he was instantly banished. That's what Gajeel was referring to with how his tribe used to be.**

 **I'll try to get out more chapters soon; I needed to add a bit to start before I get more into the action. I may need some help with this story because I am determined to finish but I also have a lot of missing spaces that I didn't fill in in my head before I started it… After TKOF's plot holes I probably should have learned haha. Oh well.**

 **Mizpah,**

 **~LoneStorm**


End file.
